Medusa

Medusa, as described on Wikipedia, "was a monstrous female character whose gaze could turn people to stone."

She's got NOTHING on me today.

For those of you who don't know me, I have big hair. Bigger hair when it's warm out; biggest hair when it's humid. Therefore, when it's 95 degrees (and feels like 103) with 46% humidity, the curls spring into frizzalicious action and I resemble Tina Turner circa 1985 (minus the voice, the legs, and the fame--you know, those things that cause you to forgive her for whatever's happening on top of her head.):
Combine the 'fro with a bad attitude, and I can become an entity that would send Medusa screaming back to Athens. I'm not sure what, exactly, turned this even-tempered trade assistant into a raving bitch today. It may have been the heat. Or lack of sleep. Or the 8 million mistakes made by Paul, and his incessant stream of questions. Or Frankie's comment about the state of my hair (which earned him "the look," immediately turning him into granite). Or the fact that Greg tried to pass off a project that took me a substantial amount of time (yes, I do work sometimes) as his, or at least as a collaborative effort. The day's overall effect was "GRRRR", and not in the Tony the Tiger "grrrrrrrrreat" kind of way. Rather than continuing to blah-g, I figure I'll perform a public service and identify the Medusa Warning Signs as well as how to avoid being cast in stone. I do not believe that these are specific to me, so feel free to apply them to daily interactions with your own coworkers:

1. Drastic increase of 4-letter word usage. I try to watch my mouth most of the time, so when the obscenities are being dropped like an organic chem class, this should be taken as a warning signal that my temper is creeping up into Medusa territory. Seek shelter from the f-bombs.

2. Limited conversation. If I'm having a rough one, expect one word answers (or grunts, groans or whines) for pretty much every question asked. If I don't respond, I'm pretending I can't hear you. Don't ask a second time.

Innocent Bystander: "How's your day going?"
Medusa: "Okay."
IB: "Do you have any weekend plans?"
M: "Dunno."
IB: "How was softball last night?"
M: *grumble*
IB: "That good, huh?"
(silence)
IB: "It didn't go to well?"
(Medusa unleashes the look, Innocent Bystander is frozen.)

3. A failure to make eye contact. When entering full-on Medusa-mode, I won't look at you. As exemplified above, this is for the safety of everyone involved.

4. Finally, if any of the previous conditions are observed, and I'm asked if everything is okay and respond, "I'm just tired," I'm not really tired. This is short for "tired of putting up with your shit," "tired of coming to work," "tired of being underestimated," "tired of _________ (fill in the blank)." If I'm fatigued, I'll say that I'm "sleepy", and will usually initiate conversation afterward.

Now that you're aware of the warning signs, if observed, there is a simple solution to avoid statue-dom: Run like hell.

(Most Medusa circumstances occur within the confines of the office, however, there have been instances where this behavior has been exhibited outside of that environment. Anyway, time to go decompress, so until the next time...)